


Mad Sounds | Hermione Granger

by lovelyaubrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bisexual Female Character, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, F/F, F/M, Female Relationships, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Wizarding World (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29402523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyaubrey/pseuds/lovelyaubrey
Summary: 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ───camille delacour has always been secondplace to her sisters, but when she arrives athogwarts and meets harry, ron and hermione,maybe she won't be a second choice anymore
Relationships: Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Going back to Hogwarts, Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> slight mention of an eating disorder throughout the story

The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was a beautiful chateau located in the north of France, surrounded by majestic gardens, and crystal fountains that were filled with water as clear as the ice sculptures that surrounded them. The place practically oozed elegance, perhaps that's why the Delacour parents had insisted Camille's sister's attend. The Delacour's had been attending the school for centuries, right up to their grandmother, Dominique Delacour-who had been a full veela in her time. Dominique had married a man by the name of Lancelot Delacour, the father of their mother, Apolline Delacour. Both their father, Monsieur Delacour and their mother had attended Beauxbatons, their father only for a short while before it became an all-girls school. Due to Fleur, Gabrielle and Camille's grandmother being a full veela, the two were ¼ veela; giving them a full scholarship to Beauxbatons as the school had a strict student body of only veela's or veela blooded students, other witches needing to pay a large amount of money to attend. However, Camille despised the school with a passion. It wasn't the students that went there, or the teachers. Nor was it the headmistress, who she had visited many times on account of helping her learn certain essential spells before she started her schooling at Hogwarts, a school in Britain that her parents had decided to send her to instead of Beauxbaton's. The school just wasn't her type of place, she wasn't fond of all the perfection and balls and girliness, she just hated it. Hence why Camille was so glad her parents were the way they are, she was glad they were understanding and allowed to her to switch. That lead to her to where she was now, stood at the entrance of Kings Cross train station in London, crying her eyes out with her arms wrapped round her sister, who was sobbing just as much.

"I'll see you soon, ok? Summer's only like what, seven months away? And I might come home for Christmas, who knows?"

Her sister sniffled, and Camille was stricken by the realization that she wouldn't see her family for over half a year, which was a long period of time considering they would be in completely different countries as well. Parting from Fleur gently, Camille took a hold of her trolley which held her case and her snowy owl, who she had named Persephone, after one of her favourite Greek myths. Looking down at her ticket and up at the platforms surrounding her, her eyebrows furrowed, and her lips tilted. There wasn't a Platform 9 ¾ in sight. Hearing the ramble of a large family behind her, she turned her head and was reassured to see a group of red heads who looked slightly welcoming and had 'Hogwarts' written on their many cases. "Excuse me," she spoke gently, her soft French accent showing as she tapped the woman on the shoulder and gestured to the trunk on her trolley.

"D-do you happen to know how to get to Platform 9 ¾ ?" She questioned, the woman who she had tapped jumping round, a wide smile on her face.

"Of course, dear! I was just about to explain it to Harry here," The lady spoke, her hand grasping Camille's hand in a comforting manner as she noticed the tear stains on her cheeks. A black-haired boy stood next to her waved, clearly out of place with the family.

"You're a first year too I presume? So are Ron and Harry here." She pointed to the youngest ginger boy, who was staring at the brunette, almost entranced; Camille assumed it was her veela charm.

"Hi. I'm Camille." Camille spoke, her hand reaching out to shake Ron's, who shakily took the hand and shook it, his cheeks now blushing red. Cute, she thought, It matches his hair. "I'm Weasley-I mean Ron, Ron Weasley but you already knew that." Camille giggled slightly, letting the poor boy's hand go and grabbing her trolley as Mrs Weasley began to walk off, gesturing for her to follow.

"All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, Harry, you can go before Ron, and Camille you can go through with Harry."

Camille pushed her trolley round and started to walk towards the barrier, Harry by her side. Fear struck inside the young girl, she and the boy next to her were going to smash into the wall and get scolded by the muggles and then they'd be in trouble. Camille pushed harder on her trolley and ran faster, the barrier coming closer and closer and the trolley wheels wobbling as she began to lose control of it, her feet somehow still solid on the ground as she closed her eyes, ready to smash into the wall-yet the crash didn't come and she slowly opened her eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with families and children with trolleys. A sign overhead read Hogwarts Express in bold black writing and Camille let out a sigh of relief. She locked eyes with the boy beside her, both smiling widely. Peering behind her, Camille spotted another sign that read Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. They had made it.

Camille and Harry made their way through the thick crowd until they eventually found an empty carriage near the very end of the train. Both had agreed that they should stay together as the two were new to Hogwarts, and Camille had begun to inform on the Wizarding World, shocked that he had lived with muggles for so long.

"Hey, do you need a hand with that?" One of the redheaded twins from earlier spoke as he followed through the wall. "Please," Camille panted, sending a look to Harry who was simply watching her struggle, having already loaded his trunk into the carriage and was waiting for her to load hers up so they could enter. "Oi, Freddy! Come over here and help the pretty lady!" He yelped over to 'Fred', leading Camille to assume that he was George.

With the two's help, Camille's trunk was finally tucked away in the farthest corner of the compartment; she didn't want to risk her personal belongings being stolen. "Thanks," she spoke as she grabbed Harry's hand and began to pull him up from his slouched position on the nearby bench, when one of the twin's began to point at the boy's forehead. "Blimey," he spoke, as he leaned closer to Harry, who seemed uncomfortable with the lack of personal space the older boy seemed to have. "Are you-?" "He is," said George, "Aren't you?" he added, nodding Harry's way, and giving a strange look to Camille, who had no idea what either of them were on about. The French didn't pay much attention to the British wizarding world, even during the Wizarding War they kept to themselves, only fighting in their own country.

"What?" "Harry Potter," chorused the twins, the name ringing a bell in Camille's mind.

"Oh, him," Harry spoke, nonchalantly shrugging at the statement, "I guess I am."

The two boys stared at him in shock for a few minutes, only leaving reluctantly when they were called by their mother, who gave the other two children a kind smile and wave. Harry took a seat next to the window, Camille flopping herself on the chair opposite, ensuring no one else would be able to sit next to her. The two watched as Mrs Weasley said goodbye to her children, the twins still whispering and glancing occasionally at Harry. The door to the compartment slid open and the young red headed boy from earlier stepped in. "Is anyone sitting there?" He pointed at the seat next to Harry, "Everywhere else is full." Harry shook his head and looked over to Camille, who had now tucked herself into the corner with a book, the title reading 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'.

It wasn't that Camille was anti-social or an introvert, she just felt that the two boys would connect more without her input, and who was she to get in the way of a budding friendship. All she was interested in was her book and the food trolley, the latter of which she hoped would be there soon, as she had skipped breakfast and was dying for some chocolate. Ridding herself of her cardigan, she tucked her legs underneath her and continued reading, ignoring the twins who had once again popped up.

"Hey Harry, Camille," They spoke simultaneously, ignoring their brother who simply shook his head at the pair. "We didn't introduce ourselves earlier. Fred and George Weasley. Budding bachelors," They gave a joking wink at Camille, who simply flipped them the bird as they laughed, "And this is Ron, our brother." They gestured to Ron, who also looked fed up with their antics. "Well, we'll see you happy people later, then." And with that they left, a pretty meaningless visit Camille thought, but who was she to question the actions of people she didn't know, especially when she herself could be strange at times.

"So, is it true what they said then?" The ginger boy spoke, and it was only then Camille noticed the grey rat that sat in his lap, its beady eyes seemingly glaring straight through the French girl, like the eyes of a predator would its prey. Reaching above her she draped her cardigan back over her shoulders, which at the moment were only covered by the thin straps of her dress, as she hadn't changed into her school robes just yet. "Are you Harry Potter?"


	2. Hermione Granger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ───  
> camille delacour has always been second   
> place to her sisters, but when she arrives at   
> hogwarts and meets harry, ron and hermione,   
> maybe she won't be a second choice anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight mention of eating disorders throughout the story

When Camille was a little girl, her mother and father used to tell her the tale of Lily Potter; the woman who saved her son with love, the same son who defeated the Dark Lord and survived the killing curse. Camille never realised that Harry Potter was the same age as her, nor did she realise how young he was when he defeated the Dark Lord. So as she sat opposite him, she gained an insane amount of respect for him.

"I thought Fred and George were just joking around but, god you're him?" Ron spoke, his eyes wide in anticipation as he leant forward at the same time as Camille slammed her book shut and got up, squashing next to the two boys; much to the embarrassment of Ron who was heavily blushing once again.

"Have you got the, um, you know?" He pointed to Harry's forehead.

Harry nodded and pulled his bangs back to show the lightning scar that sat right in the middle of his forehead.

"Is that where the Dark Lord, you know?" Camile uttered out quietly, not wanting to offend the boy in anyway but curious, as any person would be, as to how he survived the ultimate curse.

"Yes," Harry replied, "But I don't remember it very much. Some green light but nothing else."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few minutes than snapped his head back to the window, realising what he was doing.

"So you two must know loads about magic already." Harry spoke, looking at Camille, who hadn't really spoken to much.

"Oh yes," Camille spoke, her hands falling into her lap to fiddle with her cardigan ends, she hated small talk. "In France I was lucky to be tutored by the headmistress of my older sister's school, Beauxbaton's. My mother insisted I wasn't behind with my education, so she had me start reading and learning a year early." She explained, both boys leaning forward, her French accent making it impossible not to listen.

"Though I heard you had to live with muggles, how was it?" She spoke, instantly regretting her question when a look of despair flashed across the boy's face before he covered it with a mask of tranquillity. "Yeah that must have been terrible. My mums got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him." Ron began, Camille suspected that the Weasley's were one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, the twenty eight pure-blooded wizarding families, unfortunately the Delacour's were not a part of that twenty eight due to her grandmother being veela and her grandfather being a pureblood therefore leading to her mother being a half blood, breaking the Sacred Twenty Eight rules.

"Muggles are horrible -well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers or a wizard sister."

"Witch sister actually Harry, if you're gonna be a wizard you have to get the pronouns right."

"Five, actually" said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy, but Camille supposed so would she if she had five versions of Fleur, one was quite enough. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good mark's and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

He gently took the rat that had previously been asleep off of his lap to display to the group. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got stupid old Scabbers instead." Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry began to speak about his experience with muggles, how he had hand me down everything, and how he lived in a cupboard under the stairs, and how his aunt and uncle practically treated him like slave, or rather a house elf, Camille thought. Ron seemed to cheer up at the news that he wasn't the only unfortunate one in the carriage, and when both boys looked at Camille, as it were her turn to share the pity party, she froze. Despite having the perfect life to others, she had suffered from anxiety since she was a child due to an event that she wasn't quite ready to share just yet.

"My parents have always favoured my older sister over me, and it hurts you know. It's always about her, and her feelings, and how she succeeds, and sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be here you know? Like if my parents don't truly love me than who will. I mean they do all these things for me so they look good and fair enough but sometimes I wish they treated me like Fleur, and not some random that lives with them. Even when Fleur's boyfriend tried to-" She cut herself off, her eyes beginning to water as she remembered how her parents had treated her after that. Her sister was just a loving as always, but naïve to the hardships that some faced, as she had never faced them herself.

Looking up at the two she felt a hand on her knee, Harry's hand to be specific.

"You don't have to carry on, it's okay." He spoke, Ron nodding in agreement, trying to find something to distract the poor girl.

"Hey look! We're out of London!" The redheaded boy pointed out the window as the trio smiled at the endless evergreen that surrounded them. They were finally on their way to Hogwarts.  
Timed past quickly, and at half past twelve a faint knock was heard on the door of the compartment, waking Camille suddenly from her sleep, the book that had been rested on her face banging loudly as it fell to the floor, Camille bending down to pick it up awkwardly.

A smiling elderly woman poked her head around the sliding door gently, Harry and Ron already starting to thorough through their pockets for change. Camille assumed this was the trolley lady.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Ron made the decision to stay sat down and pulled out a bag of sandwiches that Mrs Weasley had obviously made, the French girl melting inside at the sweetness of his mother. He stared at the girl strangely, as if he expected her to get up like Harry.

"I left my money in the trunk," she shrugged, before going back to her book. She didn't need to eat anyway, as her mother had told her countless times.

Hearing a gasp from Ron, she lifted her head to see Harry return, arms filled with everything you could think off; chocolate frogs, every flavoured beans, blowing gum, pumpkin pasties (Camille's personal favourite) and cauldron cakes. He had basically bought out the whole trolley, making Ron's sandwiches look inferior compared to his full course meal or rather dessert.

"Bloody hell Harry. Hungry, are you?" Camille spoke, but was silent soon after as her stomach chose the wrong to rumble loudly, most likely the result of skipping breakfast and lunch.

"Bloody hell Camille. Hungry, are you?" Harry spoke mockingly, after taking a huge bite of his pasty and causing crumbs to spray everywhere.

"Harry!" Camille scolded, whipping her napkin out of her pocket to wipe off the crumps that had landed in her lap. "You never talk with your mouthful, it's vulgar!" She muttered to herself, Harry and Ron began to laugh at her antics as she furiously wiped her dress down, and threw the napkin onto the seat beside her, stomach rumbling once again.

"Camille?"

"Yes." The girl said frustratingly, blowing a stray hair that had fallen on to her forehead away, looking at the boy who lived in annoyance. She despised bad etiquette. "Would you like a pastry, in return for forgiveness for my devastatingly terrible manners in front of a lovely lady like you?" An annoying tone of confidence dripped from his words as Harry held out his hand, in it a pumpkin pastry.

"Well," Camille spoke slowly, hand reaching over to Harry's, "They are my favourite."

"You too, Ron. I'm not just gonna leave you with a beef sandwich." The boy who lived spoke, pushing a pasty over to the ginger boy. It was nice feeling, Camille thought as the three sat there munching their way through the endless pile of sweets, Mrs Weasley's homemade sandwiches far forgotten.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. Excitement built in Camille, making her rather giddy as she thought of their arrival at Hogwarts.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy with shaking hand entered. He looked tearful, and Camille felt the need to give him a hug.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, surprisingly loud considering they were on a train full of people, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"Well I'm sure he'll come back soon," spoke Camille in a matter of fact way, "We're on a train it's not like he can get far!"

"Yes, I suppose he will." The boy spoke miserably, before leaving their cabin in a hushed manner, heading straight to the opposite compartment, asking them the exact same question he had asked them.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron, patting the rat on his lap aggressively. "If I'd brought a toad, I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought useless old Scabbers, so I can't really talk."

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..." He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway."

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toad less boy had returned, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes, her puffy brown hair and front crooked teeth noticeable. But Camille thought that she was quite pretty.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. Ah, thought Camille, so Neville's his name.

"We already told him we haven't seen it but we'll let him know if we do." Camille spoke softly, pitying the poor boy, Neville, she corrected herself, who still had tears pouring down his cheeks.

The girl however seemed distracted at the sight of a wand, a smile appearing on her face as she began to step further into the compartment, sitting herself down next to Camille. "Are you doing magic? Show us then." Ron seemed taken aback at forwardness of the brunette girl, who had made herself comfortable nest to Camille, even going as far to rest gently on her shoulder; Camille had found her new best friend.

"Uh-ok?" He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Nothing happened, and Camille just had to let out a tiny giggle, not noticing the looks she gained from Harry and the girl beside her.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you." She spoke extremely fast, Camille having issues simply catching her name.

Hermione. Camille thought. That's pretty.

"Oh, w-well thank you I guess." Camille was just about as red as Ron's hair. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"Um you're welcome. I'm Camille." She locked eyes with the bushy haired girl, immediately looking away when she saw Hermione was as red as she was.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered, his mouth once again stuffed with food.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."


	3. The Sorting Hat

A loud, deep voice echoed through the train, shocking Camille awake from her much needed nap as she peered out of the doors of the carriage, pulling her robes on gently over her clothes as the boys peered out from behind her. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Well, here we go boys." She spoke, her arms linking through theirs, one either side of her. "Looks like we're here."

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Camille shivered in the cold night air, pulling Harry and Ron closer to her in an attempt to gather some warmth. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Camille was shocked to see what looked like a half giant calling over to the trio, plus Hermione and Neville who had been behind them, clearly recognising Harry, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more than five to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron and Camille were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione, who sat herself once again next to Camille, the two immediately in an animated conversation. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had needed a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff, the boats sailing through a wide open in the cliff face. They were then carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached an underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them, Neville being the last one to exit, a excited look on his face as Hagrid passed the toad to him.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, and an intimidating posture.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, Camille's heels clicking awfully loudly, drawing the people behind her to look at her, one platinum blonde boy even had the audacity to wink at her. Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." Camille crossed her fingers of the hand that wasn't entwined with Hermione's at the hope she'd be put in a house with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"Now, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." She gave a slight smile and nodded in Camille's direction, who's appearance seemed unphased by the journey, her shoes still shining and her hair tied back with not one hair out of place. She looked pristine next to Ron, who had some sort of soot across his nose.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice, the Professor had returned from her leaving. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly joyous about what was about to happen, Camille got into line behind the boy with almost white hair with Hermione behind her, Ron and Harry following, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up there, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at her looked in shock, like they had never seen a veela before, making Camille's cheeks glow dangerously red. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Hoping to void the staring eyes, Camille lifted her head gently to the ceiling, eyes twinkling as she gasped at the star covered ceiling, constellations scattered everywhere as shooting stars made their way across it. She heard Hermione lean into her, whispering quietly so they didn't draw any more attention their way.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." The girl spoke, Ron and Harry both listening too.

Camille found it hard to believe that the ceiling was ceiling at all, and not an opening to the heavens.

She quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat, with patches of discolouring and rips everywhere.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuff's are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song, Camille bearing a wide smile, the hat seemed like it would be a very jolly person, or rather hat. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

"That's bloody ridiculous," spoke Camille, her eyes rolling in amusement. "Dumbledore would never allow a troll into a school for children, that's just absurd."

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

This process went on for a long time before Camille's name was called, though hers was called way before any of her friends, each house cheering louder than the other when a new student got assigned there.

"Delacour, Camille." McGonagall spoke loudly, all eyes turning to look at the French girl who began to make her way up to the stool, nervousness coursing through her veins at the piercing stares of the Hogwarts staff and students. She giggled as she heard a few wolf whistles and yells of encouragement from Ron and Hermione.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear, making her jump gently on the stool. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either, incredibly smart, you my dear would do well in Ravenclaw. There's talent, my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, yet an increasing amount of anxiousness and dear, you really must eat more, now that's important.... So where shall I put you?"

Camille gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, remembering her parent's hatred for it, she wouldn't want to disappoint them more than she did just by existing.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be amazing there, you know, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness and help you make more friends, no doubt about that - no? Well, if you're sure -- better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Camille heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took off the hat, passed it to the Professor and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. She was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. The Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, wrapping their arms around her in a brotherly fashion, "We got Camille! We got Camille!"

She could now only hope that Hermione, Ron and Harry followed the same path.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat.

Hermione practically sprinted to Camille, jumping onto the seat beside her and giving her the widest smile she had ever seen, her arm wrapping around Camille's shoulder like a snake, the latter finally being able to breath at the thought of not being alone anymore.

Time passed quickly, and soon enough Harry's name was called, everyone's heads snapping to see where the boy would be placed. As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Harry took his seat on the stool, a good few minutes passing as the tension in the hall grew, the hat eventually shouting out to the joy of Camille.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The two Weasley twins jumped up and began to shout as they had done with Camille, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Camille and Hermione joined them jokingly, welcoming Harry with a warm hug as he perched into the seat opposite, flushed red as people leant over to shake his hand, some even asking for autographs.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined the trio at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green and shaking by now. Camille crossed her fingers alike Harry under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Camille whooped loudly with the rest of the house as Ron collapsed into the chair next to Harry, still looking worryingly green, though perking up as he spotted to food that covered the table.

Giving the boys opposite a smile, Camille laughed excitedly, not only had she gotten into Gryffindor, but she was also in the same house of the three she was sure she would get along with greatly. First year was off with a bang. A literal one as the man of the hour stood up and cleared his throat loudly, his half moon glasses twinkling with the reflection of the candles.

Albus Dumbledore.


	4. The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ───  
> camille delacour has always been second  
> place to her sisters, but when she arrives at  
> hogwarts and meets harry, ron and hermione,  
> maybe she won't be a second choice anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight mention of an eating disorder throughout the story

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. The happiness of it all sent a rush of pleasantness through the girl who began to applaud with the rest of Hogwarts as he began his speech.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" The four houses began to cheer an clap as the headmaster sat back down in his chair, food covering every inch of the table he sat at too, all the staff immediately digging in, the clashes of cutlery echoing through the great hall.

"Is he a bit bonkers?" Harry asked, the ginger next to him-Camille had learnt his name was Percy and that he was Ron, Fred and George's elder brother-pulling a face of disgust at his words.

"Bonkers?" said Percy. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit bonkers yes. Are you not very hungry, Camille?" He spoke, looking at the plate in front of her, of which contained just a few roast potatoes and a measly slice of roast chicken, all of which was covered in gravy. Hermione shot the girl a worried glance from her seat, she spotted how small and frail the girl seemed, her wrists resembling sticks and circles surrounding her deep brown eyes.

"I do hope they start right away," Hermione spoke, stealing Percy's attention away from Camille's eating habits, "there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"

"It's not as hard as it seems," Camille said softly, remembering what Madame Maxine had taught her during their private lesson's, "You just have to put your mind into it."

"You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing - " Percy spoke, leaning close to the two, as if he was telling them some sort of important secret. The conversation was cut short however, as Harry hissed harshly and clapped his hand to the scar on his forehead, drawing Percy's attention back to him.

"What is it?" The prefect asked.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" He asked, hands pushing his jet-black hair to cover his aching forehead.

"Know Quirrell already do you? Well, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to - everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape. It's no wonder considering who he used to work for, but you didn't hear that from me."

At last, the great desserts disappeared from the table to the relief of Camille, who at one point was afraid a tower of profiteroles was going to fall on her head. Heads turned once again to the front of the hall and Dumbledore rose, stepping forward to make another speech; one which Camille hoped she would understand this time. The hall silenced immediately.

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, who had their heads close together and whispered furiously, smirks painting their identical faces.  


"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Camille turned her head to Hermione, not sure whether he was being sarcastic or she should really fear her life. She was tempted to take Fred and George and find out. "And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Camille was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. She leant her head on Hermione's shoulder, kitten like yawns leaving her mouth as the trail went on. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Camille had just about had enough when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them, they started throwing themselves at him, Camille flinching for him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." That grasped Camille's attention, she had never come across a poltergeist before, but she had watched plenty of muggle films about them and was dreadfully curious. Percy raised his voice, "Peeves -- show yourself!"

A loud, vulgar noise answered, coming from behind the bundle of walking sticks.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?" Percy spoke in a threatening voice.

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. "Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle as he circled the group. "Ickle Bickle Firsties! What fun!"

Camille jumped back as the poltergeist suddenly jumped forwards into the group of children before zooming off around a corner.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again.

"The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cosy, round room full of squashy armchairs, tables, and a bulletin board where school notices, ads and lost posters were posted. It was decorated in several shades of red, which Camille assumed were associated with the house.

There were many windows that looked out onto the grounds of the school, and a large fireplace covered one wall. The mantle of the fireplace was adorned with a beautiful portrait of a lion. The walls were decorated with scarlet tapestries that depicted witches and wizards, but also a variety animals. There were also bookcases located in the room, filled with various novels that Hermione seemed to have a watchful eye on.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase - they were obviously in one of the towers - they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Camille quickly familiarised herself with the girls she was to share a room with for her further years at Hogwarts. Hermione, to her relief, a girl called Lavender Brown who had the most amazingly tame curly hair Camille had ever seen and a dark skinned girl called Parvati Patil, who had been extremely welcoming to Camille, the two instantly initiating a conversation about Camille's favourite thing; dresses. Too tired to talk much, the four girls pulled on their pyjamas and fell instantly into their beds, Lavender and Parvati taking the two closest to the bathroom and Hermione and Camille being left with the two nearest the staircase.

"Hey Hermione?" Camille whispered through the darkness, hearing Parvati and lavender's snores, knowing instantly knowing they were asleep.

"Hm?" Hermione mumbled sleepily, obviously close to falling completely.

"We're safe here, right?" The French girl asked, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

"Of course, why wouldn't we be?" Hermione spoke clearly this time, looking at Camille through the darkness, worry shining in her eyes.

"No reason."

That night Camille dreamt strange things. Strange men with strange faces fighting off strange creatures with strange voices.

Harry Potter had dreamt a similar dream.


	5. Neville's Very Clumsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ───  
> camille delacour has always been second  
> place to her sisters, but when she arrives at  
> hogwarts and meets harry, ron and hermione,  
> maybe she won't be a second choice anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight mention of an eating disorder throughout the story

The next morning was, eventful, to say the least. Camille had always been an early riser, her parents had insisted on her and sisters waking up at 5 am on the dot every morning, they had said it was to prepare them for when they themselves had families to wake up for but Camille knew it was just to torture them more then her parents already did. So when she woke up the next morning, wrapped in the velvety covers that they were provided, she felt a sense of tranquillity wash over her. There was no nagging mum leaning over her, no crying Gabrielle in the bed next to her and no annoying perfect Fleur singing in the shower for everyone to hear. It was quiet.

Just how she liked it.

Spinning her legs over the edge carefully, trying not to wake up the sleeping Hermione next to her, Camille walked over to the bathroom door that was left open on the opposite side of the strangely large dormitory.

Picking up her uniform on the way, Camille entered the bathroom quietly, looking around in awe at the extravagant manner of the simple room. On the wall facing the door stood four separate sinks, each having a mirror on the wall above and a small chest of drawers underneath them. Seeing as no one had claimed one yet, Camille chose the one closest to the shower, for once getting first choice of something. Placing her wash bag next to the sink, she carefully hung her uniform over the railing by the shower, not wanting to crease it straight away.

Grabbing her hairbrush out of her bag, she began to run it through her hair gently. Having slept with it in plaits had done her a huge favour, the usual straight and thick mess had been tamed into ringlets that now sat elegantly on her shoulders. Pinning her hair back with a clip, leaving the bottom layer down, Camille felt at peace with how she looked today. Sure, she wasn't as beautiful, after all she was only young, but she wasn't necessarily ugly (dear god did she hate that word), and that was enough.

Hearing movement from the room next her, and the familiarity of the other girls voices, she quickly pulled her shirt over her head and her skirt quickly over her hips, Camille turned to the door smiling at Hermione, who seemed shocked that someone was up before her.

"How are you up so early?" She spoke, her hand running through the bundle of curls that sat on top of her head. She walked over to the sink beside the French girl, placing her own stuff down gently.

"You know what they say," spoke Camille, brushing past Hermione with a smirk. "The early bird gets the worm."

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. It also didn't help that Camille knew where none of her classes were. And neither did Hermione, Or Ron. Or Harry.

Though after fumbling about the school for a long time they had managed to find most of their classes. And Camille had discovered a lot about her teachers.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Camille had noticed that Neville particularly enjoyed this one.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up, which didn't help Camille in the slightest considering she had no idea who either of them were.

Professor McGonagall had to be Camille's favourite, however. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione and Camille had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione and Camille a rare smile, both girls giving each other a proud look as they linked arms and skipped off to the next lesson , leaving the boys and their matches far behind.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. Camille vaguely remembered her father telling Fleur (and Fleur told her) about an encounter he had with a vampire once, a very lovely vampire he had told her. His name was Carlisle, and he was a doctor. Camille had been shocked that a vampire could be a doctor, but her father had never lied to Fleur once.

Professor Quirrell's turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Camille had befriended the Weasley Twins then and there, she thought they were charming and funny, and rather attractive if she was honest. They could well be veela, she thought, despite knowing that they were pure blood. She wondered what their mother and father looked like.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Camille and Hermione had been lucky enough to grab seats at the front, neither girls wanting to miss a thing. However, if Camille had known who their Professor was, she would've sat at the back, or even better out of the classroom.

His name was Professor Snape, and he was a tall man, who always seemed to be dressed in a black coat that billowed behind him like the wind itself followed him. His hair was pitch black and greasy, like it hadn't been watched in months, years even.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word, Hermione scribbling down most of it, the sound of her quill annoying Camille slightly, though she didn't say anything. She'd hate to insult the girl. Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sit," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Camille heard a loud noise behind her, and turned round to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, shaking with laughter, and she had to hide a snicker herself. The three looked like utter pillocks.

"I don't know, sir."

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling, despite Camille's attempts to calm her down, not wanting her friend to embarrass herself more than she had. She had the feeling someone was gonna snap, whether it be Harry or Snape.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Camille laughed harmoniously at the sass Harry held in his voice, drawing the attention of the class to her. She had forgotten that most of them had probably never heard veela laugh before, and hers probably had a strange effect on the bunch, considering the majority of them were pre-pubescent teenage boys.

"Sorry," she squeaked, and slumped down in her chair. Hermione patting her head patronisingly. Though she too felt strange at the heavenly sound that had escaped the French girl's mouth.

"Sit down and be quiet," he snapped at Camille. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, though Camille had already been making her notes during the commotion. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." Idiote, thought Camille. The poor boy had been living with muggles his whole life, how could Snape thing he'd know the simplest thing about potions. Idiote, she repeated.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy and Camille who had been paired with the blonde boy, the only two whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Camille flinched, seeing the hurt look on the poor boy's face, unlike Malfoy, or rather Draco as he had asked her to call him, who had laughed.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

Camille and Hermione left the dungeon as soon as they could, both wanting to avoid the catastrophe of cleaning up the spilled potion.


	6. What's A Remembrall?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ───  
> camille delacour has always been second  
> place to her sisters, but when she arrives at  
> hogwarts and meets harry, ron and hermione,  
> maybe she won't be a second choice anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight mention of an eating disorder throughout the story

That Thursday they all sat in the Great Hall, the tables stacked with all the breakfasts Camille could ever imagine, though just stuck to a small bowl of cereal, breakfast had never been her favourite meal. Owls came swooping in from all angles, some delivering food, some letters, some just parcels. Camille wasn't too surprised when she got nothing from her family, they had probably forgot they even had another daughter now that she was in another country.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet.

"You've forgotten something..." Hermione said flatly.

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand. Camille went to get out of her seat, wanting to defend the young boy who seemed so fragile and unable to protect himself when Hermione reached and grab her hand, pulling her back down to her seat.

"Calm down, Cami." She spoke, the nickname slipping out without notice. "Leave it be, we don't want to get in trouble in the first week."

Taking a sip of the cup of tea that Hermione had slipped in front of her, Camille looked over her schedule, relieved that her and Hermione had the exact same lessons. "Look," she pointed out. "We have flying lessons today!" The girl let out an excited squeal, not seeing the frown on Hermione's face. She had always loved flying; her father had taught her and Fleur when they were young, Mr Delacour himself being quite the flyer. Flying was the one thing Camille could beat Fleur at.

It seemed however that Camille was one of the only excited ones.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Though Camille felt his grandmother probably had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione was just as nervous about flying lessons as Neville was about anything. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book - not that she hadn't tried. Just a few minutes she had been boring them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville hanging on to her every word.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Camille, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. Camille was practically buzzing with excitement as she spotted the brooms laying on the grass. She wondered if Hogwarts was as beautiful from the air as it was from the ground.

A few meters away from the bundle of students stood their teacher, Madam Hooch. She was an intimidating woman, alike Professor McGonagall, with spikey grey hair and piercing yellow eyes.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Camille and Hermione had stood at the end, both hoping to stay out of the scary Professor's way. Looking down at her broom Camille smiled, it seemed to shine like it was brand new, and there was no stick poking out or splinted wood.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

Everyone shouted, "Up!".

Camille's broomstick shot up into her hand immediately, the smooth wood feeling familiar in the palm of her hand, like the greeting of an old friend. Hermione's however had just rolled over on the ground, her voice shaky as she repeated the word 'up' over and over again, frustration building up in her voice. Eventually, the broom flew slowly into the girl's grasp, a smile glowing brightly on her previously disappointed face. Like the sun on an early winter's morning, Camille thought to herself.

After waking down the middle of the two rows of students, giving an approving nod to Harry, Draco, Camille, and countless other students whose brooms had obeyed their command straight away.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch after teaching to bundle of students how to properly mount a broom, gaining giggles from the Gryffindor students when she told Malfoy he had been doing it wrong his whole life.

"Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -" The women spoke sternly and clearly, her eyes focused on the sky above, almost checking for danger in a way; disregarding a certain Longbottom who had pushed off a second too early. A second that had almost costed his life.

"Madam Hooch!" Camille yelled loudly, pointing at the poor boy who was now dangling on his broom dangerously. The woman turned furiously, eyes raging at the boy in the air.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Camille's heart rate sped up with every rise of the broom. A thud and a nasty crack was heard and Neville lay face down on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight. 

Rushing to the boy in a flash, Camille bend down to his height and placed her hand on his arm, "By Merlin, Neville, what were you thinking?"

"Broken wrist," Camille heard the Professor mutter from her place beside her. Gracefully pushing herself off the ground, Camille grabbed the boy's forearm, Madame Hooch grabbing his shoulder as they lead him to the rest of the class. "Come on, boy -- it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class, Camille staying beside poor Neville, figuring he could use some comfort.

"None of you are to move while Miss Delacour and I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dearies."

Camille grasped Neville's arm more firmly, trying to avoid his wrist as the grey-haired woman led the two up towards the castle.

A short amount of time later, Camille found herself in the Great hall with Hermione, who was informing her on Malfoy and Harry's argument one she and Madam Hooch had left.

Nudging Hermione in the side, Camille gestured over the boy who lived and Ron, who were talking rather loudly across the table. And about a great topic too; wizard duels. And if Camille had heard Hermione correctly, then Harry had got himself wrapped up in one.

"Excuse me," Camille spoke gently, the two shutting up instantly as they laid eyes on the two girls leaning over the table to listen in. Well, Hermione had leaned in to grab the potatoes, but Camille was quite interested on the topic.

"Hermione informed me on what happened with Malfoy and I really don't think it's a good idea to go-"

Ron groaned in annoyance, "Hermione already told us it's a bad idea."

"-without me!" Camille finished, smiling with mischief sparkling in her eyes. She loved duels, and she loved breaking rules even better. And what better way to make friends then to break the rules with them, or even better, battle with them.

Slipping back into her seat, Camille ignored the disapproving look she got from Hermione who sat next to her glaring at the girl who was chewing slowly on the few roast potatoes Hermione had placed on her pretty much empty plate.

"You three really mustn't go wandering around the school at night. You could get hurt and think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be considering Ron is about as heavy footed as a rhino. It's all very selfish of you, and Camille don't think I didn't hear you fidgeting about in bed last night wide awake, you need sleep not to be with these idiots-." Hermione said quickly, her voice cutting herself short at the end as if she wished she hadn't said anything at all.

"You know, it's really none of your business," said Harry, his knife and fork cluttering loudly on his plate as he stood up to leave, Ron following suit.

"Yeah, it's really not any of your business." The Weasley spoke, looking back at Camille before they left. "Come on Camille, if you really want to help, we're going to have to fill you in on the plan." He gestured for her to follow them out of the Great Hall, the girl giving the puffy haired girl next to her an apology as she ran up her side of table and to the doors, hand clutching her satchel that rattled beside her.

That night, Camille had decided that she probably shouldn't sleep in fear of not waking up at the time her and the boys had discussed, instead settling down with a blanket and a book on an armchair in front if the fireplace in a cosy corner of the common room. The book in question being Pride and Prejudice, one of her all-time favourite books that her sisters had gifted her with for her birthday knowing her love for muggle literature. Every time she read it Camille found herself in awe at the heart aching way in which the bond between Elizabeth Bennett and Mr Darcy was written, the French constantly wishing she would someday be lucky enough for a love like that. She wasn't ashamed to admit the book often bought her to tears.

Several hours past, the girl now curled into a ball with the blanket tucked beneath her feet, the fire still alight thanks to the small smell Camille had remembered from one of her spell books.

Looking at the clock in the corner of the room, Camille closed her book gently, folding in the corner of the page as she saw that it was almost half eleven, and that the boys would be coming down any moment.

Chucking on the dressing gown she had brought down with her to cover her short pyjamas; having heard footsteps from her place in the armchair. You can imagine her surprise when Hermione appeared in front of her instead of the boys, arms crossed with a sour look on her face.

"Honestly, Cami." The girl spoke, as she walked over to the girl, plopping herself on the side of the armchair. "I should've known you would go along with their ridiculous plan," Hermione spoke, her arms tucked into the pink fluffy robe she wore. Camille didn't question why Hermione had joined her on the armchair, she didn't feel the need too. If anything, she was glad to have some company while she waited for Ron and Harry.

"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry." Hermione spoke out, the two boys who had been creeping down the stairs jumping in fright as Camille flickered on the lamp beside them.

"Not you again!" Ron said furiously, "Camille you didn't wake her up, did you?"

"Of course, she didn't, she's been down here all-night waiting for you. I came down a few minutes ago to tell you three not to go! I almost went to your brother, he's a prefect, he would put a stop to this." Hermione ranted, her hands grabbing Camille's as she stood up to follow the boys who were now leaving the common room.

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells. And the points Camille got from Madame Hooch for helping Neville." Hermione continued, hopping over the entrance to the common room in pursuit of Ron and Harry, and now Camille, who had joined the two.

"Go away." "All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -" Hermione stopped herself, a gasp escaping her mouth causing the rest to turn around. The Fat Lady had gone on a night-time visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.

"Now what am I meant to do!" The girl sighed, her face falling ever so slightly.

Grabbing her hand, Camille pulled her to join the two boys, "Come with us! You can help with spells a-and stuff."

Sighing at the desperate look in Camille's eyes, and not wanting her only friend to get in trouble or hurt in the first week, Hermione nodded her head slowly.

"I guess I'm coming with you then."


	7. Peeves The Poltergeist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ───  
> camille delacour has always been second   
> place to her sisters, but when she arrives at   
> hogwarts and meets harry, ron and hermione,   
> maybe she won't be a second choice anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight mention of an eating disorder throughout the story

"You are not coming with us." Ron shouted, a look of horror on his face.

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all four of us, I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and Camille will back me up." The French girl nodded at Hermione's convincing words; she would definitely rat the boys out in order not to get in trouble.

"Oh, the audacity-" Ron spat, face red with embarrassment.

"Shut it, both of you!" Harry whispered; his face wiped clean of all emotions but fear. "I can hear something."

"Hello?" Camille called out quietly, her voice echoing throughout the empty corridor.

A small sniffle sounded in reply, the group moving forward slowly to look further into the corridor. It was a boy, Neville. He was curled up in a ball on the floor, tears staining his cheeks. He seemed asleep, jumping awake when Camille gently tapped his shoulder.

"Camille! Thank goodness you've found me! I've been out here for hours waiting for someone to walk past me! I forgot the password to get back to bed and the portrait wouldn't let me in!" The boy rushed out, grabbing Harry's outstretched hand, and pulled himself up and onto his feet.

"Keep it down, Neville. The password's 'Pig Snout', you should probably write that down so you don't forget. Not that it will help you now, the Fat Lady's gone somewhere. We're all locked out."

"Hey, how's your arm?" Camille asked.

"Fine," said Neville, showing them. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute, it was quite clever actually."

"That's great Neville!" Camille spoke, her hands examining his arm, not that she didn't trust Madame Pomfrey, she was just intrigued.

"Look, we have stuff to do, so I'm afraid we're going to have to go-"

"Don't leave me!" Neville shouted, clinging onto Camille's sleeve like a child would its mother, "The Bloody Baron's already been round twice and I don't want to make it a third!"

Sighing, Ron looked from Neville to the watch he wore loosely on his wrist. Throwing a glare to Hermione and Camille, who was still holding onto Neville tightly, he sighed. “If either of you two get us caught I will personally feed you to the giant squid myself!” Neville grasped onto Camille tighter, and Hermione moved herself closer to the French girl who was looking at Ron with disappointment.  
“Just be quiet,” she hissed, gesturing for Harry and Ron to carry on walking, letting go of Neville and grabbing Hermione’s hand, leaning into her slowly and whispering.

“If you want to go just say and I’ll leave with you, I’m kinda tired anyways.” Hermione smiled softly, shaking her head. “No it’s fine, I’m the one who wanted to come anyways.” The girl spoke softly, looking forward at the boys ahead. “Now let's go, before they’re too far away.”

The five Gryffindor’s made their way along the corridors, moonlight shining through the windows as they looked around carefully, wary of Filch and his cat, Mrs Norris. The halls of Hogwarts were beautiful, alike the exterior of the school. Paintings of other famous witches and wizards coated the walls, each having their own conversation with the painting next to them.

Speeding up the staircase to the third floor, Camille locked eyes with the trophy room that they had arranged to meet in, no Malfoy or Crabbe in sight. The five bustled into the room, each looking around in wonder at the crystal trophy cases that surrounded them.

“He’s late,” Ron whispered. “Maybe he’s chickened out.”

A noise in the next room caught Camille’s attention, her hand immediately reaching out for Hermione’s and her arm wrapping tighter around Neville, who was once again shaking with fear.

The voice of Filch, the caretaker, echoed through the room, “Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.” Camille cringed completely at the man’s way of speaking to his cat.

The five began to edge toward the door as Filch got closer to the trophy room, Camille whispering quietly to the others while gesturing towards a long line of suits of armor. She could still hear the heavy steps of Filch behind them, and the heavy meowing of his cat as they itched closer to the group of Gryffindors.

Turning around to check that everyone was together, Camille caught sight of Ron’s loose thread on his dressing gown that was trailing on the floor dangerously close to the suits of armor. She edged towards the ginger boy, her eyes locked on that bloody loose threat that could ruin their escape. “Ron,” she whispered aggressively, Ron not hearing her as he continued to walk with Harry. “Ron your dressing gown!” She whispered louder, however it was too late. Neville, the nervous boy he was, had jumped out of fright and startled Ron, who continued to trip over the loose thread and fall into the nearest coat of armor, causing a clanging and crashing that could awake the whole castle.

“Run!” Harry yelled as the five began to sprint down the hallway, ignoring the caretaker chasing after them. They ran around the doorpost and sped down the next corridor, Camille holding her wand in her hand firmly, still unsure of what could be lurking the halls of Hogwarts. Harry ripped through a tapestry, the others following him, finding themselves in a hidden passage. Camille breathed shakily as she looked around the dark hall, shivering as she caught sight of the many spiderwebs that surrounded them.

Continuing to run, Camille found herself near the Charms classroom they had been in just hours earlier, miles from the trophy room. Camille leaned against the wall, catching her breath as Harry next to her. “I think we lost him,” he panted looking at the girl, her mouth curling into a smile as she wiped the sweat off of her forehead.

“You think?” She said, Harry beginning to smile along with her, neither seeing the jealous glance Hermione was giving them.

“What did I say,” Hermione breathed, her hands clutching her chest as she bent over next to Neville and Ron, the latter whose face was redder than his hair.

“We need to get back to the common room,” Rom spoke aloud, “Like right now, before Filch catches up and we all end up in detention.”

“Draco tricked you,” Camille spoke, not missing the weird look she got from the rest at calling him his first name. As a child, she had always been told that to address people your own age properly is to address them by their first name, not their middle nor their last. And despite the blonde boy having already insulted many of her peers, Camille was not one to be rude to those she did not truly know. “He must have never planned to meet you, and Filch already knew someone was in the trophy one, Draco must have tipped him off.”

Hermione nodded along with the girl, clearly having thought the same thing.

“Let’s just go. ” The boy uttered softly.

A slight noise came from the door, a rattling, as if someone was attempting to enter. A white blur shot through the door and out of the classroom in front of them.

Peeves, the poltergeist that had been terrorising other first years on their first day floated in front of them, cackling in delight at catching them in the act.

“Ohh, ickle firsties out after curfew. Ickle firsties wandering around at night, aren’t you naughty? Tut tut tut, you’ll get caught.” The ghost chuckled, circling the five as they looked around, afraid Filch would appear at any time.

“Leave us alone Filch, please.” Camille whispered pleadingly, her hands fiddling with the end of her robe, having tucked her wand back in her pocket a few minutes ago.

“I really should tell Flich, you know?” The poltergeist spoke smugly.

“Oh just go away,” Ron snapped, pushing past Peeves and continuing to walk. Camille sighed and brought her hand to her temple; she should’ve just stayed in bed.

“Students out of bed!” The poltergeist yelled, his arms waving frantically. “Students out of bed and down the Charms corridor!” Camille and the others ducked under the ghost and ran into the nearest door; it was locked.

“What are we meant to do now?” An exasperated Ron asked, his face-in Camille’s opinion-looking like he had eaten a sour lemon. “We’re done for! This is the end of our school lives as we know it!” Camille continued to pull at the door, her hands clamming up as they heard the footsteps of Filch edge closer. Hermione, seeing the girl’s panic, stepped in with her own wand raised. “Here,” she spoke gently, pulling the other girl away with her other hand. “Let me try.” Camille watched with wide eyes as her friend tapped the lock gently and whispered a quick unlocking spell.

The door unlocked and the Gryffindor’s bundled in the room, shut the door quickly and pressed up against it, attempting to listen through it.

“Which way did they go, Peeves?” Camille could hear Filch ask through the door, her hand shaking as it grasped for someone else’s in search for comfort.

“Manners don’t cost a thing my dear Filch.” The poltergeist chuckled.

“Just tell me for Merlin's sake.” The caretaker shouted, his anger growing.

“Say pleaseeeeee.” Camille felt a lump rise in her throat at the thought of peeves actually giving up where they were. She had never had a detention before, and did not want to get one in her first week at Hogwarts. She shivered as she felt someone breath heavily down her neck, distracting her from what was occurring outside the door.

Turning around, she froze in her spot. She had sworn this was a classroom, it looked the exact same as the one she had been in earlier, except now she looked closer, she spotted something that had blended in the darkness. A giant three headed dog. She thought back to the lack of portraits she had seen as they ran into the classroom and realised they were on the third floor. The forbidden corridor of the third floor.

“Harry,” she whispered sharply, tugging on his sleeve as the dog growled softly, its three heads looking at the five carefully, its mouth open as if it was as shocked as she was.

Harry turned along with the girl, his eyes widening also as he stared at the humongous creature, debating running out to Filch rather than stay in that room. Reaching his hand out, the boy pushed the door open and ran, the others following suit; they too had noticed the dog. Eventually reaching the seventh floor, the five stopped in front of the Fat Lady painting, of which looked very disappointed in the group.

“Where have you lot been? It’s almost midnight!” She spoke, shaking her head at the sweaty children.

“Pig-snout,” Camille spoke quietly, just wanting to get into bed. “Pig-snout!”

The portrait swung open and the sweaty bunch piled in, Camille collapsing on the armchair next to Hermione who looked at her with a smile. “Well that was fun, wasn't it?”

“What do they think they’re doing?” Ron spoke from his place on the other sofa with Harry and Neville, “keeping an animal like that in the school? Safest school in Scotland my arse.”

Hermione sighed at the three boys, “You really don’t use your eyes do you? No wonder you need glasses Harry. Didn't you see what it was standing on?”

Camille rubbed her eyes and leaned her head onto Hermione’s shoulder.

“It was standing on a trapdoor,” the French girl spoke in a bored voice. “Now if we’re all done here, can I please go to bed.”

“Yes,” Hermione spoke, moving Camille’s head off of her shoulder and standing up. ““I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going to bed.”

The girl stormed off, Camille following in suit with a tired wave to the boys.


End file.
